


the road unwinds before me

by blastellanos



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Infidelity, M/M, Non-Famous Family Members As Characters, copious use of glitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:46:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/pseuds/blastellanos
Summary: Nope-- not James McCann; he'd never.





	the road unwinds before me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saddestboner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saddestboner/gifts).



> No infringement intended. 
> 
> This is a stripper AU; I'm not sure why I started it. 
> 
> Title is from _Driven_ by Rush

James thinks he shouldn't have come to this. It's difficult, really, to tell himself that when the alternative is an empty house. But he knows he should be back there, alone, reflecting. Meditating. Praying for guidance. His marriage in jeopardy and he should be doing something to try and fix it. Yet here he is, with rap music thrumming bass through the floor and he's sue some drink being sloshed around. But he doesn't exactly resist as someone-- he thinks it's Drew-- pushes a red solo cup into his hands and then disappears into the crowd.

James wonders if he should follow, like maybe there’s some sort of excitement elsewhere. Near the door he'd entered, there's mostly just a hallway then a mess of bodies dancing. He picks his way through them, keeping his drink close, and finds a seat somewhere tucked away-- close enough to where he can hear some people talking about yesterday's game. He doesn't really focus on anything, just listens to the background chatter and watches people.

Feels something like _guilt_ and tries to ignore it. 

(The ignoring doesn't go so beautifully, honestly. Because it stabs at him, underneath his skin, until it's like the beginning of a headache, pounding at the base of his skull.)

He wants to enjoy himself, he thinks. There's a part of James that tells him he doesn't really _deserve_ to enjoy himself and a part that wants to force it on him, so he wonders which way to go. He's close to making a decision, maybe to _not_ have fun, when movement specifically catches his eye. He isn't sure why-- maybe it's the way the flashing lights catch the glitter on his skin, or the fact those are definitely masculine thighs jutting out from beneath a short, red skirt. 

James keeps looking, he can't help himself. The skirt is ridiculously short. It's honestly more like a thin strip of cloth than a skirt and there is more smooth, tan, glittery skin. That isn't fair, really. The top is barely there. Something draped and silky, shimmering under the lights, a teasing flash of nipples through sheer fabric and a toned torso, jut of his collar bone, swell of Adam's apple. 

God… James isn't quite sure what he should be thinking right now. Except that he can hardly think at all. 

This isn't right, James knows that. But even as he says that, he can't drag his gaze away. He wants to, but he supposes that’s too much to ask. 

So he keeps looking. At a broad white smile, dark lashes, dark eyes, and short spiked up black hair.

James throat feels incredibly, embarrassingly dry. His heart is thudding, beating far too fucking fast. His brows raise as the guy shimmies a little against someone's broad back and the view from behind isn't any less alluring. 

In fact-- it might even be worse. There isn't as much there as James would expect with a lady, a little more flat but the muscles of his thighs are exposed under it, and he has shapely calves. 

He doesn't think much of it, actually he tries to actively push the thought away. He shouldn't be looking. He shouldn't be feeling that tingle running through his body. James knows that he's a good boy, and that this isn't something that he's really even considering. It's just an idle kind of glance, something unavoidable since he’s right in front of his face. 

It isn’t that James _wants_ to look. 

James turns his attention rather studiously to something else, listening to Alex Wilson telling some big fish story, spilling his beer, while Shane Greene leans into his side. He looks like he doesn't really want to be there and it's kind of funny, how close they are. Alex shoves lightly at Shane like he's put out, but his smile never dims. James sips on his own drink which is also some cheap beer, but it's better than thinking of anything else. He tries to focus on it. He's gladly doing that. Up until the point his light is blocked out and he feels slim, but strong hands on his shoulders. James looks up and it's the dancer, flashing that bright smile right at him. 

James is aware of way too much all at once. His lap is suddenly occupied, and he feels the dancer's knees pressed against him, grinding down. Enough where James can feel his breathing near cut out. He’s light enough, but he looks a little lost, eyes half closed as he moves on James, writhing to the beat of the music. 

Shane and Alex are looking at him though, and James feels frozen on the spot. Because he needs-- he has to save face. He forces his hands back down because he wants to grab onto the dancer’s hips and drag him closer. Instead, James tries to twist his face into some sort of expression. 

James suddenly feels way too fucking hot. He can feel the sweat prickling at his skin, feels the way his throat goes completely dry. Watches the little smirk on the dancer's face as he grinds down harder and _feels_ that James is reacting. 

And God--

James tries to squish the feeling down, stamp it out. Like he doesn't like the weight across his thighs, the blunt nails digging into his shoulders, the way he can feel the guy's skirt ride up more and more as he grinds down on him. When James quickly glances down he realizes that the skirt is so far up, he can see the fancy underwear, dark and lacy and just _barely_ covering everything. 

The dancer puts one hand up into his own hair, arching his back as he grinds himself down harder and more, then he lets go completely to pull off the shimmery fabric of his shirt. He's not wearing anything underneath except for more glitter and James can't help but look at it. Watching sparkles of it in his chest hair and dusting over his nipples-- down his shoulders and flat muscles of his stomach. 

James tries to clear his throat but he can't breathe. It's taking all his willpower not to press up. James wishes it wasn't like this but the truth is, he wants this. He loves the feel of it and he wants nothing more than to get everything. James wants to grab the dancer's thighs or his hips and get more. Already this is too much, though, especially since James is being watched. So he forces his hands from his sides and tries to push the dancer away. 

"That's enough." James keeps his voice firm, and he hopes it doesn't crack out loud, the way he feels it is in his head. The dancer just grins at him, sharp and toothy and knowingly. James's cheeks are burning, he can feel it, and he hopes that Shane and Alex mistake it for anger instead of knowing he's aroused, or embarrassed that he's aroused. 

The dancer is gone after a moment, flitting back into the crowd to continue his striptease, leaving James feeling confused and dizzy. James finishes the rest of his beer in one long drag and jumps up to find another cup. Stumbling a little, eyes scanning the party and wondering-- fuck. 

He didn't like that. He doesn't want it again and he forces his gaze back to the floor, enough to find where drinks are being handed out, because only more alcohol is going to make him feel even slightly anything about this. 

"Nice dance you got there." Verlander's tone is warm and teasing but James feels all of his skin prickle, hair standing up like an angry cat. He almost whirls on him, feels anger rising like bile in the back of his throat. Sharp and acidic. 

"It was disgusting." The response is almost automatic, but it lacks heat and vitriol and he can almost feel the way Verlander is looking at him. His thighs are still burning with the memory of the dancer's weight on them. He wishes he could stop thinking about it. Verlander laughs and it doesn't make James feel any better. 

James tries to mingle even though he's wishing he'd stayed home. (The truth is that being home was an even worse prospect.) He avoids the dancer for most of the night, making rounds, and laughing with some of the guys-- discussing ball and wives and life in general. It's almost enough to make him forget what happened earlier. 

He thinks he might even get home okay-- after an hour or two, he's pleasantly fuzzy and the thought of going home doesn't make him want to tear his hair out. He's nearly forgotten (lying to himself) the beginning of the evening. James says a few goodbyes, mostly so people _know_ he's leaving. But then he's all but ready to leave when he sees the dancer again. 

He's now just in some kind of lacy thong that does nothing to hide the fact that he's hard, his skin is less glitter-flecked and there's some obvious hand prints, and places where sweat has whisked it away, and his dark hair is even more messed up now, lips a little swollen like he'd been kissing someone. James can't help himself, he feels so fucking compelled. 

He wants to get closer, to see how he tastes, fit his hands where the glitter has rubbed off and touch all the smooth skin that's been exposed to him. It makes his hands twitch and his cock stir and his heart hammer. All while knowing he shouldn't want or think of any of those things. 

But it must have been some unknown force on him, because he steps in closer, crowding in the dancer's space-- and he turns those big brown eyes on him, still fired up, crinkled at the edges-- like he's laughing at James. They're alone, just the two of them in the foyer leading out of the house. James isn't a particularly impulsive person, but he can't pass this up. 

James grabs him by the shoulders and shoves him back against the wall, ducks his head in and kisses him. The dancer tastes like cherry liqueur and has incredibly soft lips and makes the tiniest, softest noise against James's mouth as they kiss. 

It's probably that noise that startles James and he jumps back like he's been burned. He shoots the dancer a sort of wide-eyed gaze. He can't believe himself and it makes him feel like his whole world has shifted and is coming out from under him. 

He's glad the door is nearby but even the cool night air can't shake how feverish he feels. 

And if his hands shake when he calls for a cab-- who’s going to notice in the dark? 

***

James doesn't think about kissing him. Rationalizes that it doesn't count as cheating because-- well, he didn't like it and it was just a kiss. He doesn't think about kissing him again. James definitely doesn't think about the dancer, resting his forehead against the cool tile of the shower and under the spray of the water, wrap his fingers around himself and think about how it'd felt with him grinding down on his lap. 

Nope-- not James McCann; he'd never. 

Still, it's kind of strange, sitting at a strained breakfast with Jessica, slightly hungover, and trying not to hate the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, or the sounds of kids shrieking outside. James winces at a particularly shrill one and thinks about shutting the window, but Jessica seems to be enjoying the light breeze that's stirring the curtains. 

Although enjoy is kind of an odd way to put it, he supposes. She doesn't look particularly happy and her grip on her coffee mug is a little tight. There are memories of the last fight they had too, which make him feel a little reticent to ask her what's wrong. 

It's not her fault; they'd been arguing a lot lately. In the aftermath, it always seems so foolish, even though at the time it seemed like a matter of utmost importance. He knows at this point he should be better and there's every desire to reach out to her, run his thumb along where her knuckles have gone white, and ask her what he can do to help. 

He almost does, almost. James feels like lately he's always been just a couple inches short of reaching where he needs to. (Just short enough to be a flyout, they just beat him out to first base, overthrowing, he reaches out too late…) 

He's almost across the table, where he can feel the little heat her skin is giving off, when she pulls back to take a drink of her coffee. Jess gives him a kind of look when she sees him leaning across the table and James pulls back, kind of wondering what it'd even accomplish. 

Jess finishes her coffee and stands up to rinse her cup, leaving James at the table. Everything is so strained and he is trying to think of something to say to her. 

Something that could at least get them back on track. 

"I'm gonna stay with my mom for a while," Jess says when she comes back to the table. James looks up at her, eyes wide with surprise. 

"Can't we talk about this?" James hopes he doesn't sound as weak as he feels. He hopes he doesn't look as weak as he feels. He grips the coffee mug so tight that his knuckles turn white. He steadies his breathing. 

Jess shakes her head no, her hair flying a little as she does.

"I'm done trying to talk to you, James." Her voice is devoid of malice. More than anything, she sounds tired, and James wishes he could rewind the last few days and maybe fix things then. Or try and talk then, at least. The problem with the two of them is that they often let their own stubbornness run the conversation, which then leads to cracks in their foundation like this. 

"Are you coming back?" It's more accusatory than he means it to be. He knows that a lot of his reasoning behind it is because he feels guilty about last night. The little shrug of her shoulders, just the slight lift, does nothing to soothe the sudden painful thudding in his heart. 

"I don't know." The voicing of it doesn't make it any better and James frowns at her. "I guess we'll have to see." 

James doesn't know what else to say. There's the desire to beg, right there on the tip of his tongue. To grab her hand in his and ask her to stay. Tell her that they could work it out still, if she'd only give him a chance. But he doesn't think it's the best call. 

Absence is supposed to make the heart grow fonder, so maybe a few days apart would do them some good. Give them more time to calm down. Part of him wants her to yell, though. Wants her to make a big scene and just get it over with so they could pick up all the pieces once it blew up and rebuild from there. But they'd done that once-- twice-- how many times in just the past month? 

Okay." James sounds defeated and he hates it, he cuts his gaze away from her, focusing on the scratches in the wood table instead. He scrapes the chair across the floor as he stands up. There's the desire to try and win, too, make one last biting comment to make it clear that he had the upper hand. But he knows he's the real loser here. So he breathes out a slow sigh and leaves her to herself. 

Maybe some light reading would help. 

He folds the book open on his lap, thin bright white paper and tiny writing, and watches as the words blur together as his eyes feel painfully wet. 

***

James clicks the light on in the hallway, throwing his duffel bag down by a pair of work boots, still caked with mud, that are still there. He has a handful of mail in one hand and he listens to the house settle. The house smells like there'd been something left in the trash or the sink; he curses under his breath and drops the mail on the counter as he goes to open some windows. 

It's just after midnight and he's just gotten home from an extended road trip and this-- he didn't expect it to be like this. Jess had said she was going to leave, but that wasn't… this wasn't. 

It feels more permanent than just being gone for a few days as he walks through the house, flipping lights on. A few of the pictures are gone off of the wall, starkly white compared to the slightly faded paint next to it. 

Things gone that aren't just--

James sits down on the couch and looks at the single sheet of lined paper resting there: Jess's flowery handwriting with a short note. It doesn't say anything he didn't already know-- but mostly that she's going to stay with her mom for a few weeks. 

It takes him a few moments to process and then the anger springs up and it's probably a good thing she isn't there. He tosses the note down and then shoves a lamp off of the side table. 

(It'd been a wedding present from his parents, he realizes afterwards. He looks at the broken ceramic, the bent lampshade, and just leaves it there. He tries to find someplace to go that doesn't make him _think_ about anything.) 

On the wall leading towards upstairs, there's a picture of him and Jess at their wedding, posing for a picture all pretty. The catch in his chest almost makes him feel like he needs to lay down. It aches so badly, he holds on to the wall for a moment. He contemplates maybe knocking the picture off of the wall too. 

He manages to finish going upstairs to the bedroom. 

He's still keyed up from the trip and he's angry now, too. He wishes he had someone to reach out to. A friend-- a friend he could trust because he has _friends_ but he didn’t really want to discuss his marital troubles with Michael Fulmer or-- God, Matt Boyd. 

(Not that they'd judge him. Or would they? It's hard to tell. They're both good men and Matt's always been so understanding, and Michael's soft round face almost invites someone to confess to him. But James pushes both thoughts from his mind. It almost feels like a weakness, wanting to confide in someone.) 

James slips his wedding ring off and puts it in the bedside table drawer and sits cross-legged in the bed. He checks his messages and notifications. 

There’s nothing from Jess. 

James is about to open the app he has on his phone, where he has the Bible and places he's marked to read-- passages he's highlighted, and parts in them that give him strength when he feels his best just isn't good enough. His finger lingers over the little square icon and he blinks a little. 

He doesn't know why. He doesn't know what this means as he pulls his finger away and opens the internet instead. It shouldn't be hard and he runs through a few search terms, trying to find if there’s more information. 

He finds him in a shockingly short amount of time. (Probably the same way whoever had hired him did.) His website is done in an oddly elegant fashion, black and white and almost fancy, with contact information and an **About** section and everything. 

It's probably more likely a company site, someplace he's affiliated with who books his party and James is about to back out-- about to come to terms with why he even _looked_ in the first place when he sees the little camera icon at the bottom. 

James can almost feel his throat closing up as he clicks on it-- lets the app open the page and bites his lower lip. 

The first picture makes his heart thud; the outfit is the one from the party-- although there’s a brighter shade of lipstick on his lips there, must have smeared off during the party before James had gotten there-- and a caption in Spanish he doesn't understand. 

James set his phone down and rubs the bridge of his nose. He needs to close out of this. He needs to not go down this rabbit hole. 

But it's too alluring. He isn't going to closely examine why he thinks that. Educational purposes-- some sort of fascination with the Other; someone who's clearly strayed from a path of moral goodness. It should be enough-- that thought-- to make him stop. But it isn't enough; he doesn't stop. 

James clicks the icon at the top to go through the photos. 

The next one is relatively normal and there's a few splashes of that. Photos of the dancer in regular clothes and with people James has never seen before and probably never would again. James wishes he could properly put a name on what he was thinking. But he can't, really. 

There's a sort of fascination as he scrolls through, being careful as he looks at the pictures. And there's some small part of him that wants to click on the little messaging icon up in the corner and say something stupid. 

A million ways to start the conversation flit in and out of his head as he scans picture after picture. He's doing it one-handed, thumb carefully inching the page down and down as the other is rubbing idly at his thigh, up and down. He can hear the faint scrape of his nails on the heavy denim and it's burrowing into his brain and he tells himself to stop but fuck--

He can't stop. 

The beginning of the end though is when he makes a conscious decision. When he sets his phone down and undoes the button on his jeans, slide them down over his hips, and kicks them off. Sitting there in bed now, in just a pair of cotton boxers and an undershirt, he reaches up and rubs the space that's paler than the rest of his skin where his wedding ring used to be. 

Then he picks his phone back up and stares at the picture on his screen.

José (he's seen his name in the profile description) is wearing something that James doesn’t think anyone could really pull off. It's something in delicate silver lace, criss crossing over his tan skin, floral pattern tight to his muscles, curling up around his broad shoulders, and down to his trim waist. He sees the skin beneath the mesh, dark nipples, the teasing flash of defined muscle, flash of dark hair leading down, and the skirt is so short over hard thighs, but it barely covers anything. 

His legs look so long and James has a sudden, unbidden thought of wondering what they'd feel like wrapped around his waist. His eyes flicker closed for a moment and he opens them again-- staring at the wide smile José has in the picture, silver on his eyelids and lips, glitter on his cheeks like sparkling freckles that define his jawline and shadow down his throat. 

James bites his lower lip and feels a low curl of heat. 

He knows he should resist.

His fingers move from his thigh to between his legs, curling around the hardness he can feel swelling beneath his boxers. James hisses in a breath through his teeth. 

James knows that he shouldn't be doing this, but it feels good. He tries to remember the last time he's jerked off and he can't recall it, just fuzzy details. Never like this, though, where he feels like he has to do it. Like every part of him is screaming. But it'd been a long time since he'd even gone looking for a picture that got him like this. 

James rubs himself through his boxers slowly, still focused on the picture. It's small enough that he can take everything in at once, but he still finds himself getting lost in certain details. The stretch of José’s lips, his big thighs, dark hair. Wrapped up in silver like a Christmas present. 

James eventually tosses the phone aside so he can stretch out on the bed, languid, and push his boxers down to wrap his fingers around his cock. He's a little damp already and his thumb rubs against his slit and the dampness of precome there. 

It's dry and a little rough as he drags his hand along, but it's enough. He knows how to touch himself right. He closes his eyes and imagines it-- imagines the soft lips, the fuzziness, the dim lights of the house party. 

James gets lost enough in his head, other hand gripping at the bedsheets, and imagining it's José’s dark hair. He's imagining pushing him down and feeling his perfect, hot mouth wrapped around his cock. He comes imagining José between his thighs, bobbing his head up and down. 

He imagines that José swallows him, even as he comes against his own fingers and in hot stripes over his stomach. He shudders there and keeps his eyes closed and knows he should stop except he can almost imagine the exact way the bed would dip. 

He brings his messy fingers up and stares at them for a few seconds, before reaching down and pressing them to his own lips. James wonders how it'd taste if José kissed him right now. He licks his lips and tastes the bitterness-- unfamiliar-- and imagines the chase of cherries like he'd tasted on José's lips that night. 

He has a brief moment of-- _what the fuck did I just do?_ \-- but he's too tired to unpack all of it. So he closes his eyes and drifts off. 

***

"Did you lose your wedding ring, man?" 

James startles at the question and he feels like he's been lifted out of a fog. He immediately grabs at his bare ring finger and shoots Matt an annoyed look. James doesn't mean to-- it isn't Matt's fault-- but there it is, a glare. He watches Matt shuffle back a little. 

_Fuck_ , it’s still in the bedside table. 

"I didn't lose it." James frowns a little more. He's never sure how Matt is going to react to things. Sometimes, he's easy like Sunday morning, and he backs off. At other times, he can get a bit pushy and belabor a point. Matt opens his mouth, but it must be a day where he's backing off-- or he sees something in James's face-- and he gives him a little acknowledging lift of his chin before slinking away. 

He sees him go to where Avila and Verlander are talking and he hopes Matt isn't saying anything. He wishes he had his gloves on already, feeling naked without his ring, hating that it’s so obvious. But Matt doesn't say anything more about it to his face. 

James feels good in the cages at batting practice, and fielding too, and throwing. It's-- huh. He isn't sure what's different about his mood, but he feels good, and it shows in the work he's doing. 

That night, he has a pretty good game, 2-for-3 and a walk; he drilled a couple of solid hits and he had scored a run, but he hadn't batted anyone else in. They lose the game when the hold is blown, but it doesn't feel as bad as it could. James checks his phone after to no texts from Jess and he thinks about messaging her. 

There's some part of him that thinks he shouldn't be the one to make the first move. He wishes he could say it was out of some amazing show of respect for her wishes, but the truth is he didn't want to be the one who seemed like they were crawling, _begging_ to be taken back. 

James knows he can't do much, but after his shower, he's changed and he opens up instagram again. He navigates to José’s page. He sees a red circle around the photo and James frowns a little. He clicks it to open the video and sees José there, wearing something slinky and bright red, with a slit high up on the left hand side, showing off his muscular thigh. He's balancing on too-tall heels, standing next to a girl who is dressed up even fancier. 

He speaks in Spanish that James mostly doesn't understand; he picks up the words for _happy birthday_ , and watches as José dances on the video for whoever he was with, prancing around his heels and then doing some other joking stuff. The video ends abruptly and takes a furtive glance around to make sure no one's noticed.

His finger hovers over the little paper airplane and he grimaces at himself. 

No, Jess was going to be home soon and they'd work everything out. He compartmentalizes as best he can and bounces his foot a little as he hears Wilson getting grilled by the press. James runs his finger over where his ring should be. 

He thinks about putting it back on when he gets home but he doesn't know. It'd mostly be so no one noticed, it was bad enough that Matt had. 

He knows he has to be more resolute and not give in again. One slip-up could be excused, even though José is a man and all, but any more is a pattern of behavior. 

***

But James doesn't stop. He can't stop himself even though he tries. He finds himself opening up José’s Instagram when he finds that he has an idle, spare moment. 

He looks through the old pictures and the new ones that he posts too, the videos, and the little snapshot stories that disappear. 

It's a week of this, where his heart races and his fingers shake and Jess doesn't text. And he fills his loneliness with his dreams and imagination and his own hand. 

Because it's safe, the night before he leaves to go on a road trip to Texas, he does something incredibly stupid. 

James finally clicks that little airplane. He stares at the circle avatar and considers chickening out. But Jess hasn't spoken to him at all, his sole update being a text from Jess's mom saying she'd arrived to Kentucky safely. 

He keys in a message. 

_hey sorry to do this lol but we met at a party a couple weeks ago and i was wondering if u wanted to get a coffee. I'm out of town until next week but let me know_

James adds a smiley face at the end; it isn't long at all before he gets a reply. 

**get coffee with a random dude on insta sounds like recipe for me getting murdered. I meet many people at many parties**

The reply comes with a laughing face at the end. James bites down on his lower lip and tries to think if he's going to embarrass himself further. 

_we kissed?_

James feels pathetic and it makes him frown at the screen. He gets another laughing face in reply. 

**kiss lots of people at lots of parties too** There's a face with its mouth puckered up and a tiny heart with it. **pretty boys like me get lots of kisses what makes you special?**

James shakes his head and frowns. He's about to close the app and consider this a loss, when he sees the reply dots pop up again. 

**okay okay i bite. i come meet you. time and place and i be there for you** There's another kissing face at the end of the message. 

James can't believe he's doing this. He knows it's wrong, he knows it's stupid, and he knows it's irresponsible. He knows his vows were supposed to be lifelong vows; he knows the stupid fight they’re having shouldn't be leading to this. 

James tells himself that it's just coffee. But he knows that isn't going to be true. Even as he types in a location, a time, a date-- he imagines José’s moth. Imagines the feeling of his skin beneath his fingertips and wonders if he'll be covered in glitter again-- if he'll see the memories of it for days after when he catches the sparkle on his own pale skin. 

He gets a reply from José. 

**i put in my calendar. _nos vemos_**

***

Jess calls him while he's in the middle of getting ready. James is halfway through buttoning up one of the more muted shirts he has-- white with a pale blue checkered pattern-- when he sees her name flash up on his screen. He's so startled by it he nearly knocks over the pictures on the dresser when he answers. 

"Hey." James forces his tone normal and steady. He gets a strange feeling in his stomach. 

_Guilt, that feeling is guilt_ , his brain helpfully supplies. 

"Hey." Her voice is tinny through the speakerphone. James doesn't finish buttoning his shirt as a million things go through his mind. There's a small part of him-- a part that he _hates_ and wishes didn't exist-- that is hoping she isn't calling to say she's back from Kentucky. 

He wants to ask. 

The words are right there on the top of his tongue. 

"How's your mom?" He lets out an embarrassed laugh and rubs the back of his neck over his collar, "I mean, and you, I'm sorry." 

James suddenly feels flustered, like he's been caught doing something. 

"We're fine." Jess doesn't sound mad anymore, or tired. "I only called to check in on you…" 

As her voice trails off, James wonders if it's a lie. He sits on the edge of the bed and smooths down the hem of his shirt. 

"Oh yeah, I'm good too." He winces. That wasn't-- "I mean, I miss you." 

Jess makes a sound that's nearly swallowed up by the residual static and James turns the speaker off so he can press the phone to his ear. He keeps playing with the hem of his shirt. James wishes he knew more of what’s going on. 

Jess doesn’t sound like she’s missed him; she didn't say it back either. There's noise in the background on her end-- maybe the television or some sort of restaurant, a low murmur, and the distinct sound of more than one voice. Maybe she’s on a lunch date with her mom; maybe she’s at the airport and she’s going to ask him to come and get her. 

There's a space in James that hopes that's the case. Ultimately, he still wants things to be normal and right-- he wants to save their marriage and he wants to focus on something else, even as his mind supplies him images of José. But her being back could be his escape before James does something worse. Before he turns down a road that he can't get back from. 

Jess could be his road back to being Good. 

Which-- James know isn't fair to her. It's not fair to put it on her shoulders. James is a bit of a jumbled mess right now, though, because he wants too many different things. He feels like he shouldn't be responsible for himself, that this is too much of a burden for him to bear alone. Still, he waits for her to say something, the silence nearly deafening. He doesn't even realize as he finishes doing up his shirt. 

Part of him wants to ask, beg, Jess to save him from himself. But he's able to silence that as he puts her back on speaker and takes his phone with him to finish getting ready for the meeting with José. He does his hair in the mirror, putting a little product in and using the edge of the comb to carefully do his part. 

"So," Jess says after a little while, "I know it's not nice to ask this, but I promised Ashley earlier on in the year that I'd help her do something for _The Rainbow Connection_ but I'm not going to be home in time for it, so…"

Jess trails off again.

James stares at himself in the mirror and watches his own mouth move. He looks calm, which is a counterpoint to the white-hot flash of anger he feels. 

The sort of flash of-- _so I do your dirty work for you?_ \-- to taking it as a matter of not disappointing their friends. But of course, it'd be for Ashley, when Matt had already noticed his missing wedding ring. He thinks about putting it back on again. 

"Yeah, of course, I'll let her know." Unable to help it, he passive-aggressively adds, "I don't know why you can't just _call her_ though." 

"That ain't cute, Jimmy." 

The line goes silent after and his phone makes a sound like the call has disconnected. He swears under his breath and tries to call back, but it goes directly to voicemail. He tries her number again and it rings twice before she sends him to her mailbox. He doesn't leave a message. 

James sighs a little because he knows there's a problem. And he shakes his head because he knows he can't fix it while she's in Kentucky. Especially when she's not interested in the process of resolving things and talking right now. James brushes his teeth and checks his reflection and steadies himself with a breathing exercise. 

He rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up and grabs his keys and his wallet. James knows he shouldn't be doing this, but he clicks the lights inside off, and then leaves the house. 

***

It’s not too late for a coffee date but he’s glad to see the little shop is mostly deserted when he gets there. James definitely isn’t interested in shooing off fans or explaining what he’s doing or anything like that. A thought freezes him-- what if José shows up in a dress. 

James isn’t a world-known catcher or anything but with Detroit sports fans and how they went for their teams it was more likely than not that he’d be recognized by someone. It wouldn’t really be easy to explain away what he was doing with a guy in a dress in the middle of a café on a Thursday afternoon. James thinks about the scandal that may erupt and he almost loses his nerve.

Instead, he tucks himself in the corner and waits. He’s obsessively looking at the watch on his wrist and then back at the door. He’s trying not to be too obvious as he checks his phone and responds to a few messages. 

He doesn’t know how to respond to Ashley’s text asking him about Jessica. He starts and deletes a few replies to it and then abandons it entirely when he sees _him_. He comes through the door with a jingle and slides over to the counter to order his drink. James watches him. He’s-- god. 

James doesn’t like the little twinge that goes through him. He was hoping… he didn’t know what he was hoping. That he’d be less alluring in the flesh? But that’s not the case. José is less glittery, but his dark hair is feathered a little, skin gold in the dim light of the coffee house. His shirt is see-through, some kind of pale colored mesh-- maybe white-- that criss crosses down his arms and over his torso. It stops about halfway down, his stomach bare. 

His pants are slung low on his hips-- also white-- and tight, clinging to his butt and over thick thighs and shapely calves. He’s got sunglasses on too but he moves his way over to where James is seated, hips swaying a little, shoes slapping a bit noisily on the stone floor. He sits across from James and sets his phone and drink down and then lowers his sunglasses, peeking out over them at James. Studying him. José’s eyes are as dark as James keeps seeing in his dreams. 

“ _Hola_.” José grins at him and waves. “Did not know you were one of the _Tigres_.” 

He takes his sunglasses off. He seems thrilled with the thought though, flashing him a brighter smile that James sees now when he closes his eyes and in his dreams. José’s cheeks dimple a little when he smiles and he tilts his head. 

James flushes at being recognized and wishes he'd thought to maybe-- not do this, or come in a disguise, or something. Instead, he breathes in slowly and watches as José sips his drink. Watches as the smile falls from his face and James wants nothing more than to put it back on there. 

"So, let's get down to business." José opens a calendar app on his phone. It's filled, color coded, with names and times and sometimes little icons that are nearly all indecipherable to James. "What you want for? A party?" 

James startles a little. 

"What?" 

"For hiring me? Like a party?" 

James's cheeks darken even pinker and he runs a hand through his hair. James knows he has to steel himself, but he feels ridiculous. 

"No, I wanted--" James cuts himself off. Realizing how stupid he'd sound if he told José he just wanted to see _him_. That wasn't exactly a lie, but also-- "I was thinking something more… um… private." 

He watches José consider him for a moment, then scroll through his calendar. 

"I got some days free, not all days. I mean if you want an arrangement. It won't be like same time, same day." 

"No, I get it, I thought…" James bites his lower lip, "I just thought we could work something out." 

"I come and dance for you?" 

James considers for a moment and then nods. It's weird. It's so weird because James wants to say something, wants to do something, and his palms are itching to glide over skin and in José's spiked up hair and over the broad shoulders he can see under the netting. 

But José is not just _stoic_ , he’s professional. 

"Okay so, I not cheap. And sometimes I won't be able to come when you call, I got a business too. But you got my number. You can call me." 

"How much?" James asks. 

José squints a little and taps around on his phone a bit. 

"I mean, depending on the session length. What you want. Five-hundred at the minimum. And up from there." 

"For a _striptease_?" James chokes out. 

"You seen my work, _tigre_ , you think I won't get that much?" José raises his eyebrows at James, almost like a challenge. "If I keep time open for you, it gonna cost. It gonna cost because I want to be there for you so maybe some days when you don't have to work, I'll make sure to be free for you." 

"That's a lot of money."

José slides his chair back and waves a hand over himself. 

"This don't happen for cheap, _hermoso._ All the pretty clothes and my pretty face take money to keep up." José leans in a little, flutters his dark lashes, and sort of pouts at James. "You want me to be pretty for you, don't you?" 

There's a sudden dryness to James's throat that he can't get rid of and he wishes he'd gotten water instead of coffee. 

"Uh…" James can't think of what to say as José nearly stretches across the table. James watches the curve of his spine and the way he moves himself, giving him a perfect view of everything he did have to offer. James reaches out and grabs José by the shoulder. 

"You can't-- you can't do this here. Can we… " He nods towards the door. 

José glances behind him and then stands up with a slight lift of his shoulder. 

"You're the boss for now." José flashes James a salacious, wicked smile. James can't help but be a little thrilled-- but he also feels like he's going to regret this. 

***

They wind up at a cheap motel. It's dingy on the outside and even worse on the inside, it smells like cleaning supplies and stale cigarettes and the (probably) once white drapes are oddly yellowed, filtering the sun out. James feels a little awkward, but sits on the edge of the bed and watches as José buzzes around the room, getting things set up. 

He starts playing some music and looks like he's about to start dancing, but James reaches out and grabs him by the wrist, tugs him in, and runs his hands over the material of his shirt. 

"You not supposed to touch the dancers," José says, holding very still.

"For five-hundred dollars, I think I'll do whatever I want." James says. 

José gives him a look, dark eyes glittering a little. James pulls José down into his lap and runs a hand up under the hem of his shirt. 

"Breaking club rules, sir," José says, voice colored in amusement, "A bouncer may have to see you out." 

James knows he shouldn't push, not too much, but José’s words and body aren't matching up. So James pushes. Pushes and moves until he can get José flat on his back on the bed. James hovers over him. 

José looks like a piece of artwork spread out beneath him. 

He's well toned, he can see muscle definition, and his dark skin looks positively divine against the white of his clothes. The shirt's ridden up, showing the definition of his abs, the V of his hip bones, and the dark trail of hair disappearing down into the waistband of his pants. 

José looks every bit as alluring as his photos had, nothing to do with lighting or filters-- it’s just José. 

James reaches down and flicks the button open. 

"I'm not a hooker." José protests and pushes at James a little. 

"Maybe I just want to look," James says. 

José’s looking at him through the fringe of dark lashes and he sees his eyes have gone near black, and there’s red on the tops of his cheeks. 

"You gotta look with your hands?" 

James places his palm over the front of José jeans. 

"You like it." 

José pushes at him again. 

"I dance for you, you can look, no touching." 

James pulls his hand back and balls his fists, because he has to, or he isn't going to be able to keep from reaching out. He's been-- fuck-- he's been dreaming about this. And that's the worst thing. José slides out of the bed and switches the song. 

The song is slow with a bassline that seems to almost slide into James's veins. Until his heart is nearly thrumming to it, and he's enthralled with the twist and curve of José’s body to the beat-- the sweat starting to shine on his skin, and the way he exposes more and more of himself in fluid movements. 

The truth is, José is _really good_. James watches him move and his cock aches, throbs, and he wants it. He wants to throw him down and take him and wants him to writhe like that, twisting and sinuous on his cock and he wants to grab his hips and hold him down and he just wants so much. 

Instead, he grips at the bedspread until his knuckles are white as José straddles his lap and grinds down against him. James knows his hard-on isn't subtle, he knows that José has to be able to feel it every time he presses down against him. 

It's all James can do to not just grab José’s hips and take. 

James is flustered and honestly, too fucking turned on, too fucking much. He wants to close his eyes but he can't look away, either. God, José knows how to move. He grinds down on him to that slow, thudding movement of the music and it's just--

God, it's just right. Just the right amount of friction, José is doing everything so right. His hands are light on James's shoulders and he throws his head back. James grabs at the bedspread tighter and chews on the inside of his mouth trying to think of anything _but_ that movement on his hips. 

Without meaning to-- unconscious, raw desire-- James's hips jerk up a little and he watches José’s eyes flutter open and he looks down at him. Their eyes meet for a moment and James thinks that he's about to ruin this. But José gets that wicked little smile. The same little teasing one that James has seen in countless pictures of his on Instagram. 

"Is okay," José says, patting him on the shoulder, "You move with me. We dance?" He smirks and James wishes he could say no. Maybe to feel a little more composed than he is right now. But José goes back to grinding on him to the beat of the music and James rolls his hips up again. 

"Fuck," James sighs out. There's no noise except the music and the thudding of his own heart and it's way too fucking good. He's wringing the sheets between his fingers and pushing up and he's losing his rhythm, even though José doesn't seem to miss a beat. 

James tries not to touch but he buries his face against José’s chest when he comes unexpectedly, the pressure and pleasure and feeling too much, jerks and shudders and his fingers spasm a little. He knows José notices-- but when the song ends, James is glad he's too professional to say anything. 

He feels ashamed-- and he's sticky and uncomfortable as he sits there watching José put his things away. José finishes dressing and then he holds his hand out to James, waiting for payment. 

"Um, would you take a check?" 

José gives him a look. 

"Just this once I will. One time." José holds up a finger. James writes it out and then rubs a hand over his bicep as he watches José tuck it into one of his pockets. 

"Call me again if you want…" He heads to the door then looks at James over his shoulder. "You probably gonna wanna use your shower at home." Then he winks at James and slips out the door. 

James scrubs a hand over his face. 

"Okay, yeah, you're never doing that again." James leaves the hotel feeling a little shamed. His drive home is uncomfortable and guilt wracks him-- but at least it will finally be the deterrent he needs. 

***

James goes to the bible study that the team holds on Sunday mornings and ignores the look he's getting from Daniel Norris, since he usually brings Jess with him. Although, he's sure that someone has noticed her conspicuous absence. Matt had noticed his missing ring, he had surely also noticed his missing wife. 

But the bible study goes on as it usually does, with Kelsey reading some scripture, and they have a discussion about it. 

James's mind, he regrets to say, isn't really in it that much. He's trying, mostly, to absolve himself of whatever he'd done the day before. He needs to find his path again, at least focus on trying to right the course of some things. He figures that re-establishing his relationship with the Lord was a good first step. 

There is coffee and cookies available and James sips on his coffee as they continue their discussion. These particular ones are about friendship, something that makes James want to pull his hair out. Matt and his wife are there, which means that James is going to have to let them know. 

After the discussion, James grabs Matt by the elbow gently, to keep him and Ashley in the room while the others filter out. He notices Matt glance down at his ring finger. Ashley is giving him a sympathetic look and he's sure that he'd told her whatever conclusion he'd come to. 

"Hey, I hate to be the bearer of bad news an' all, but Jess is helpin' some family back home so she won't be back in time for your charity thing." James tries to keep his face straight. He's sure that this wasn't such a horrible lie to tell and that he could still work on his being Godly despite the little white lie. Ashley does look disappointed though. 

He feels bad. 

Matt gives him a reassuring smile. 

"Oh shoot, that's okay man," Matt says cheerfully, "I think Kelsey said she was going to help anyways so it sucks, but it'll be okay!" 

Ashley nods in agreement, slipping her hand into Matt's and squeezing his fingers a little. 

"Are you still going to come and help?" she asks, "Or are you going to go help Jess?" 

James falters a little. He didn't know Jess had even volunteered him to help too. It was a children's charity and he didn't mind; but it was the principle of the thing. Especially since Jess has bailed and left James to be the one doing it; she'd also made him be the one to deliver the bad news. 

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it." James smiles broadly at the pair. 

"Oh good!" Ashley claps her hands together in excitement and then reaches out to take James's hand. "Give Jess our love and I hope whoever she's with is okay!" 

James is proud of himself how he doesn't flush with embarrassment when being called out on his lie. 

"I'll let her know." James keeps his smile up, reaching out to squeeze both of their hands. Matt heads off with Ashley in tow. James rubs his finger over the rapidly fading tan line where his wedding ring had once been. He grabs his phone to send off a message to Jess about telling Ashley the bad news. He should also ask if she'd mind if he came out to Kentucky. 

They were going to have an off day soon and he wants to see her. He _needs_ to work on reopening their lines of communication. 

When he unlocks his phone, James's eyes fall on the little camera notification hovering at the top of his screen. 

_Candelita started a live video. Watch it before it ends!_

James knows he shouldn't, but he finds himself clicking on that instead of opening his messaging app. The room is pretty dark and there's some sort of disco ball flashing different colored circles of lights all over the wall. Even though it's dark he can still make out José. He gets a low curl of heat in his belly. 

He can't make out much detail but he turns the sound up. There's music playing in the background, but James is far more taken by the fact that José is singing along with it. There's comments popping up, in English and in Spanish-- some of them vulgar, telling José to take his clothes off. 

But he doesn't seem to be reading the comments and hearts spray to the right hand side. 

_"Ay yo te sigo buscando, te quiero,_ " José sings into the camera, his eyes looking soft, his voice sounding low and sweet. _"Y por más que lo intento. No te puedo olvidar."_

He sings the same verse again and then flashes a heart with his hands over his chest, before the video cuts off unexpectedly. 

James feels like he's going to die right on the spot. His heart is racing and James isn't quite sure why. He doesn't know the song, he's never heard it before, and José’s voice wasn't exactly going to get him on the next _American Idol_ but his cheeks feel oddly warm. 

He finally messages Jess that he let Ashley know she won't be there. 

James thinks about the way José had danced for him and wonders if next time, he could get him to sing for him while he did it. 

He's not proud, but James sends José a text, with a time and a location and a day. 

It's not until after he goes through his practice and is getting ready for his game that evening when he receives a reply. 

**okay. i be there.**

James gets that guilty feeling again, but it gets overwritten by a sort of giddy excitement at the prospect of having José dance for him again. He hums the song that José was singing to himself as he laces his cleats up. 

"Whatcha singing man?" Nick asks and James shrugs. 

"Oh, I don't know, I just heard it somewhere." James tilts his head at Nick. "You know it?" 

"Shit, nah man, sorry." Nick grins and wanders off. James doesn't mind though, his spirit considerably raised.

It isn't a walk-off, but James is the one who gets the go-ahead run, on a sharp line drive to center field that skitters between the shortstop and the second baseman. He feels good. He knows he probably feels too good. 

All through the post-game interview, he thinks about José. 

*** 

He cancels on José at the last minute, diverting his flight home to go see Jess in Kentucky. He knows he shouldn't show up unannounced, but. He has a text waiting for him from José when he gets off the plane. 

**that why i charge so much, what i gonna do all day now?**

There's a wink after it which James _thinks_ means that José is kidding. And he doesn't owe him an explanation, but he does it anyways. 

_sorry; had to deal with a family thing._

José sends back a laughing face which James doesn't quite get, but he doesn't think much about it. He gets an Uber to Jess's mom's house, which is a good way away from the airport, and texts them to let them know he's coming. 

Her mom seems glad about it but by the time the car pulls up in front of the familiar house, James is feeling a lot less sure about his decision. He hands some bills off to the driver who speeds off and James looks down at his phone. 

He sees the live video and his fingers itch to click on it, but he resists the urge, slipping his phone into his pocket as Jess's mom comes out to greet him, her face lit up like the summer sun when she lays her eyes on him. James feels a little settled and he curls his fingers against his thighs so he doesn't grab his phone. 

He wants to though; it burns in his pocket like a coal. James slides his arms around Mrs. Cox and kisses her on the cheek. 

"Hey Ma." James smiles fondly at her and she pushes James back to look at him, a wide grin breaking over her face. 

"Jess is gonna be so excited to see ya," her mom drawls out. James doubts that, somehow. But he hopes that she's right. They head into the house, James shouldering his duffel bag, and following along. He itches to message José again or at least see what he's up to. 

Jess is with her sister in the den, watching some college softball game-- women's. 

"Hey Jimmy." Her sister waves a little and Jess looks up. Her eyes go wide and then flash with heat, pink flush staining the tops of her cheeks. Her mouth presses into a line and he knows her well enough besides that to know she's mad, not pleased to see him. 

"You wanna talk outside?" James asks her. Jess stands and moves towards the door. He hopes they don't fight again. James hadn't come here to fight with her. He tries to take Jess's hand, but she tugs it away from him as they go out the back door and onto the deck. 

Jess sits on the edge of a wood stained picnic table and frowns at James. 

"What're you doing here James?" Jess crosses her arms over her chest and fixes James with an unfriendly look. It makes James falter a tiny bit; because he wanted to see her. He _misses_ her, but the warmth somewhat chills and then fades in the face of the way she's acting. He wants to call her out. 

He wants to say something. Instead, James clears his throat. 

"I missed ya. I got the day off and I wanted to come and see how you were." It's the truth, too. It _was_ the truth. He thinks it's still true. He wants to wrap his arms around her. Whatever happened with-- with José-- he still loves his wife. 

"You couldn't send a text?" 

James feels his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment and he rubs at the back of his neck. 

"I coulda, but I wanted to see ya, too." 

Jess makes a noise that isn't _quite_ a scoff. James should have known this was a bad idea; he should have waited. She would have told him when she was ready for him. But it feels strange; he doesn't like to wait. He likes to be the one to fix things. 

"I left for a reason." Her tone is flat and her face is all pinched up. James knows that's true too and he finds the words sticking in his throat for some reason. He wants to defend himself but parts of him knew he was in the wrong. He just thought if he could see her face-to-face, if they could talk then they could figure things out. 

"I know," James says, he's conciliatory. He wishes he hadn't come now and he supposes he could turn and leave. But James can see Jess's mom looking out at them through the blinds. James wonders how much Jess had told her mom, but he pushes it to the side. "I didn't mean to like-- invade or whatever. I should have called but… at least let me take you out, or something?" 

He's trying. 

James knows he's not always the best, but he's fucking _trying_. It wouldn't hurt Jess to put in a little bit of effort too. Jess frowns again, but eventually, she plays with the ends of her dark hair and shrugs a little. 

"Why not." Her tone doesn't exactly inspire confidence, but it's something at least. "I'm gonna shower then we can go get a drink or something." 

It's a start. 

"I'm gonna freshen up too." 

James winds up in the old guest room and, since he's alone-- the spray of the shower is very audible in this room-- he pulls his phone out to check. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help it. It's there-- red outlined-- along with stuff from his teammates enjoying their off days as well. But he doesn't worry about them. 

He clicks on the one that he knows he wants to see. 

James feels bad when he does it but he can't help it either. He feels his heart start racing. The room he's in is done up in all black and rose petals with a slightly rose tinted light that gives the entire place a nice pink glow. The color makes José look good (everything does) and he's in something black and sheer and there's music piping in the background. 

James doesn't recognize the song, but he recognizes the way that José is swaying to the music. And it makes a weird sort of heat curl through him. And something almost like -- but definitely _not_ \-- jealousy stabs through him. José moves and lowers his gaze, looking at the camera through a fringe of his lashes. 

Bedroom eyes. 

James cuts the video off with a flick of his thumb over the screen. His cheeks feel far too hot and he doesn't want to think about why. But he knows why. James knows his own thoughts even if he wants to act like they don't exist. 

It's because James knows that they shouldn't exist. He tries to fight the feeling down. It's a struggle. It takes every bit of his willpower to not message José and ask what he's doing. James knows he has that kind of issue. 

It wasn't like--

James knows he falls into stuff like this. Despite their problems now, James fell in-- where did _that_ come from. James suddenly feels a strange hot ball of something settle in his lungs and it's almost hard for him to breathe. 

James doesn't have time to examine because he has to go on a date with his wife, whom he definitely loves, and fix that. He shoves his phone into his pocket again and goes to wash his face and his hands. 

Jess lets James take her hand as they head to the car-- but James doesn't feel like he deserves it. He decides he'll delete the bookmark-- and José’s number-- when he gets back to Detroit. 

***

James really does mean to do that. To get rid of José’s number and stop visiting his page. He wants to. James wants to get his marriage back on track, even though Jess wouldn't come back with him. Their outing had been a disaster, because she's still angry. 

He gets it-- he _does_. James isn't dumb. But he's still trying, so he texts her and his fingers itch, but he keeps himself on the straight and narrow. And he ignores the notification that shows up on his screen, because he doesn't want to think about the fact that José might be-- doing whatever it is he does when he gets on camera. 

The back of his neck itches and he doesn't feel right. Like his skin is put on wrong which is weird. He’s going over some of his scouting reports when he gets jostled by someone sitting next to him. Shane Greene looks a little mischievous. 

"Hey." Shane is grinning from ear to ear. 

"What's up?" James is glad to be able to put his reports down and focus on something else. Even though the look Shane has right now isn't making James feel good about this. Shane loops an arm around James's shoulder and squeezes. 

James sighs a little. 

"I have to tell you something." Shane says. 

"Okay." 

Shane sort of squeezes James to him. He pats James in the center of the chest. 

"You know I love you, right?" 

"Um… sure…" 

"So you have to know I'm telling you this out of the goodness of my heart." 

James waits and looks at Shane in profile. 

"People can see your Instagram likes." Shane watches the color drain out of James's face, "I mean, you pepper it with a lot of baseball love and you're not verified so I don't think a lot of people know it's _you_ but you might want to… you know…" 

Shane trails off and James feels like his heart is going to split in half. 

"Oh so you…" 

James isn't sure how to even ask that question. Shane gives him a pretty telling look though and James feels his cheeks flare with heat. It's embarrassing, even though Shane looks like he isn't bothered by it. Shane is actually grinning broadly at him and James frowns. 

"What?" James doesn't mean to snap at him but it's pretty hard not to, when his feelings are so twisted up. Shane waves him off a little. 

"Nothing, don't worry about it _hombre_ , your secret's safe with me." Shane pats him on the shoulder and then stands up. James feels weird, like Shane knows too much about him. After all, he'd been witness to the lapdance and now he knew his secret. He feels shame burning through him.

Just the reminder is enough to make him want to look, to stop ignoring the notification. He settles his back against the wall and flicks the notification open with the swipe of his thumb, making sure the sound is turned off. 

It's a live video and he has to ignore the comments popping up and is instead focusing on José. He's in a bedroom of some kind with dark colored linen and he's got the camera above him, laying out and his mouth is moving. 

People are replying in Spanish in the comments and James wishes he could read lips… and speak Spanish fluently enough to read lips. James backs out of the video. He's going to delete the Instagram app. But he sees the little messaging flag and frowns. 

James clicks on that. Obviously he has to send at least one more message, he can't just disappear. That wasn't good business. 

James frowns and sends José a place and a date instead. 

**you gonna cancel again?** José replies in just a few moments, with a string of laughing faces and James flushes again. 

One day, the blood is never gonna drain from his face and he's going to be red forever. 

_sorry…_

José sends a little kissy face out at him and James closes his phone. He knows he shouldn't but he can't help himself. 

***

The hotel that he meets José in is a lot nicer than the skeevy motel he'd had his first private dance in. James helps himself to the minibar and has a few shots before José gets there. 

James is pleasantly buzzed by the time José lets himself in. José always looks perfectly put together, this time in a pair of tight blue jeans and a fishnet shirt. He has something else on over it, a dark blue shirt and he stands at the foot of the bed, looking critically at the assorted frosted glass bottles from the minibar. 

James is leaned back on the bed enough that he's got his eyes canted up at José. He knows he isn't supposed to think men are beautiful, but there's not any other word for it. 

Actually, there probably are. José is -- he is beautiful. At times his features look a little delicate, with his high cheeks and slim nose, and his pink lips. But then he's striking, too, with a heavy brow and a strong jaw. James can see the muscle definition in his arms and legs. 

"So just a dance?" José asks. 

James wonders how long he has been staring in silence. James nods. He doesn't trust himself to speak. José turns the music on. 

"You need liquid courage for that?" José points to the bottles. James glances around him and clears the bottles off the bed with a delicate clink as they hit the thin carpet. 

José raises his brows but doesn't say anything else. 

"You remember rules?" 

James nods in response and watches as José starts to dance. The music is slow and James thinks his heart is matching the beat, as José starts stripping in front of him. 

Each newly exposed inch of skin makes James feel like he's being superheated. He feels like he's going to need to sit on his hands to keep following the rules. 

James doesn't recognize the song, but he doesn't need to. José moves sensuously and he could be dancing to Maroon 5 or something and James would still be transfixed. José moves closer and strokes the netting across James's jaw. 

James bites his lower lip a little and he feels actual strain forcing himself to hold back. He doesn't want to hold back. He wants to take José and get him underneath him. 

The realization makes him feel hot, even as José slides into his lap. 

"At least I always know I'm doing a good job with you." José grinds down on James's lap to punctuate the point. James feels embarrassed because his erection is so obvious, tenting at the front of his jeans. 

"Shh, it okay, _yuma_ , I'm glad you like it." José lets his fingers trail over James's lips. "No need to be shy." 

José grinds down again and James remembers what happened last time. He has every reason to be shy. He has every reason to not be here. 

They all seem to disappear when his hands settle on the curve of José's hips. José doesn't push him away. 

José balances himself with his hands on James's shoulders as he moves against him. James bites down on his own lower lip and be can't stop looking at José's face. His eyes are closed and his lashes are black with mascara, lined darkly, smoky and dangerous. 

José's mouth is moving along to the song, not making noise, but saying the words. James's heart flutters, pounding with some weird twist of emotion that's separate from his arousal. 

James reaches up and slides his fingers over José's parted lips. He slides his fingers there and dips them in, brushing lightly against the tip of his tongue. 

The yellow polish on his nails looks strange against the pink of José's mouth and it puts his regular life enough in his mind that he jerks his hand back. 

José hasn't stopped moving, but his eyes are shiny and dark, fixed on James's face which has flared with untold heat. 

"José." James doesn't know what his voice sounds like, it's foggy and distant to his own ears. Like there's blood rushing in and he can't hear the music anymore over the pounding of his own heart. 

'hmm?" José makes a noise of acknowledgement. James doesn't really remember what he was going to ask. 

"You can sing if you want." James's fingers go tight against José's slim hips. José looks down at him with lidded, heavy eyes. 

"On that lonely night, we said it wouldn't be love, but we felt the rush, it made us believe it was only us." José's voice is a little deeper than the person singing, but it's clear and steady, accented like his voice. He's still dancing, and sometime during all of this, José has gotten his pants undone. 

He stands up to remove them. 

José looks perfect and James feels something split apart in his chest, possibly his breastbone, because he feels like everything inside of him is going to spill out. 

José straddles James's thighs again and goes back to singing to him, sliding his fingers against James's shoulders, sliding them close until his thumbs are light over James's Adam’s apple. 

José is still singing, moving on James's lap, the navy lace of the thong starkly contrasts his skin, the delicate mesh straining against José's cock. 

"God." James sounds near reverential and he feels a slight stab of guilt at that. 

James slides his hands up from José's hips, over his sides, the smooth skin, and fitting them where his ribs dip in slightly. He can feel his own pulse racing as his fingers slip on José's sweat dampened skin. 

José leans in close enough that James can feel his breath ghosting against his mouth. And it's too much. 

It's so much and James doesn't have the strength he needs. He closes the gap between them and slides his mouth against José's. José's lips are soft against his, he tastes like mint, and James's heart is pounding like a jackhammer. 

José stops moving and he puts his hand on James's chest, pushing him back a little. José's cheeks look suspiciously red, his eyes look tellingly dark. 

"Hey!" José's voice is sharp enough that it cuts through the fogginess that James is feeling. His hands are still high on José's chest. 

But José is moving away. He slides off of James's lap. 

"I told you, man, I ain't no _pinguero_." José's voice sounds weird though and he snatches his jeans from the hotel floor to dress himself again. 

"I'm sorry," James says, feeling like an idiot. His heart won't stop pounding. His head won't clear up. José stands in front of him and holds a hand out. 

James pays him without complaint and falls backwards onto the bed once the door closes behind José. 

James feels disgusted with himself, but he shoves his jeans down and wraps a hand around his cock, thrusting into the circle of his own fist as he thinks about José's weight against his thighs. 

Thinks about his dark eyes and the red cheeks and his gorgeous body and he spills embarrassingly quickly over his hand and stomach. 

James knows he needs to stop this. He needs to. He can't keep doing this. 

***

James doesn't know how to approach José again, and he feels embarrassed about what happened in the aftermath. He knows he needs to control himself better. The fact is that he feels reckless around José and that's probably reason enough to stop contacting him. 

James is sure he can get it out of his system on the lengthy West coast trip they have coming up. It feels like it's going to be almost two weeks on the road. He can use that time to reconnect with Jess via video chat and text messaging and by the time he gets back to Detroit, she will be home too. 

His plan, he decides, is completely faultless. James deletes the Instagram app off of his phone and commits himself to going back to reading the Bible and getting his life back on the track it's supposed to be. 

James knows he's a good person and he can and will be a good husband again. 

He sends Jess a quick _thinking of you_ message with a few hearts after it. Jess doesn't respond right away, but when she does, it's just a smiling face. He isn't too bothered by it -- things will work out, he just has to trust God and give it time. 

***

James fields interview questions after a particularly embarrassing loss. It had been a bad game and the series had been bad too. James hadn't been particularly good, but the pitching had been awful, and he toys with his wedding ring awkwardly.

He's thankful for when it's over. 

There are highlights -- more like lowlights-- playing on the television and as he's changing, he sees Verlander watching. He hadn't pitched this series and he'd had the best game of everyone in the last stretch of five games. 

"Does anyone on this team actually know how to play?" Velander sounds bitchy. It's not a quiet question and he sees out of the corner of his eyes a couple people look up at him. 

Nick bristles almost immediately and is cuffed on the back of the neck by Miggy, and James can see that Michael quickly turns to comfort Boyd who _had_ pitched today. He's glad someone is taking care of it. 

James doesn't want to deal with it. He wants a hot shower and a couple fingers of whiskey, and possibly some kind of memory removing technology. 

James knows the right decision would be to call Jess and see if she'd been watching. That's the right decision. They had been talking a little, just over text message, and it's been a lot like their emails when they had first started dating, back in college. 

James sighs a little. 

Verlander is slamming around in his locker in annoyance and Victor is talking to him, hand heavy on his shoulder, but his voice is too soft for James to hear. 

James finishes tying his shoes and heads towards the exit. It's gonna be the bus then a quick plane ride and he's relishing bed, even though hotels still make it difficult to sleep. 

"Is Jess going to be joining you?" Mikie's Louisiana drawl is easy to place and James startles visibly at the question.

"Oh, um." James rubs at the back of his neck, feeling awkward and uncomfortable with the question. "I'm gonna ask her if she can, she's been with a sick relative." 

James doesn't like how easy it is to lie. 

Mikie nods a little. "That sucks, man. It's gotta be tough. Being married and on the road, alone."

James flashes him a smile. 

"Ah, the secret of your bachelor status is revealed." James grins as he says it, Mikie laughs good naturedly, then jogs ahead to sling an arm over Shane's shoulder and harass him and JaCoby. 

James looks at his phone again. His messaging app. He looks at it with a frown. He'd deleted Instagram. 

Jess and José's numbers are right next to one another. James feels a pinch of tension behind the bridge of his nose and he feels like the Devil is staring him right in the face. 

James thinks about Jess, her pretty light eyes and her dark hair, and her smile. He thinks about their wedding day and how he had promised to hold her over all others ‘til death do they part. 

James knows she deserves to be the one to get the message; but he also knows she won't come. He doesn't know if José will say no or not. 

James ultimately feels like he's making some decision to walk down a path he can't return from.  
He texts José the address of the hotel they'll be in and the room number. 

**?**

_i'll pay you back for the ticket i just need to see you.... please?_

José hasn't responded by the time James has to turn his phone off for the plane. 

***

James throws his duffel bag down on to the floor and immediately goes over to the minibar. He finds the mini bottles of whiskey and pours them into a paper Dixie cup. 

He is halfway done with the couple of bottles when there is a knock on his door. James frowns and he opens it. 

José is there, wearing an old Tigers jersey and a pair of jeans. James ushers him in quickly. He slams the door behind them and he stares at José with wide, surprised eyes. 

"What're you…?" 

"You invite me, what I just no show up?" José runs a hand through his hair. He looks tired. James doesn't know what to do. His hands twitch but he keeps them down at his sides. 

He grabs on to his jeans. 

José tilts his head to the side a little and rubs his hands over James's shoulders. 

"Go, sit, you too tense." 

The music José puts on is something instrumental and soft, a little jazzy and José settles down behind him and slips James's shirt off, to expose the undershirt he has on underneath, printed with the usual Captain America shield. José's hands settle on his shoulders, rubbing gently. 

James isn't sure how to deal with this; José’s hands are soft, but he's good at it. He feels the tension loosening in his back and his shoulders and José is humming along with the music and it feels-- it's strange. James doesn't know how to deal with it, really. His eyes close a little and he just sinks into it. 

"So, I see you play. I watch you. Kinda. You on the TV at the club I was at." José is conversational, and James's eyes flicker open, he wishes he could see José’s face right now. Instead, he just feels a stab of jealousy when he thinks about José dancing for other people. 

"What'd you think?" James asks instead. José’s laughter is close enough that he feels it ghosting over the back of his neck. 

"I see you before too, this not so good. But you-- you look good." 

James frowns at that. 

"I had a terrible game." 

José wraps his arms around James, pressing to his back, and he rests his cheek against James's. 

"I no talk about your playing, _guapo_." José says and James's cheeks go hot in a sudden flush. His throat suddenly feels dried out and he isn't quite sure how to respond to that. 

"Oh… um… thank you." James isn't sure how to feel about it. José seems -- he doesn't know. He realizes he doesn't quite know José enough to realize what might be going on. 

But James knows it feels oddly intimate like this, with José's face pressed against his, and his arms just wrapped around him lazily. José's hands are pressing lightly against James's abdomen. 

José's hands tuck up under James's shirt, against his skin, and it's like electricity. James's throat feels completely like it's closed up. 

José eventually moves away from him to go and set up. James almost wants to tell him he doesn't have to do that, he would pay him, if he'd just sit there with him, holding him like he was. 

James has been lonely and there's no doubt about that. He hasn't been with Jess or anyone else. José has been the person he has had the most interaction with. 

James knows it's one-sided. That for José it's a purely professional arrangement and James's desire for it is weird. But he can't help but want it. 

José turns the music on and flashes James a smile as he catches the beat, bobbing his head a little. James relaxes back against the bed and tries to forget everything else. 

James works very hard at keeping his hands to himself, chewing on his lower lip in earnest as José grinds down on him and dances for him. 

James gives José more money than usual, to pay for the plane ticket and he wraps José up into a hug before he goes. 

"Thank you, José, I really -- I know it was a lot, and I appreciate it more than you realize."

James is startled when José strokes his fingers over James's chin and kisses his cheek softly. 

"No mention it." José slips out and James sighs. 

But the whole thing leaves him more confused than before. 

***

James is glad to be home, even though José's visit had helped spark him a little, their record on the road trip was not where they had wanted it to be. They have a nice homestand coming up, though, and James is happy to be back in his (empty) house. 

James stretches out on the couch and sighs a little. He brings his phone up and texts Jess, asking her to come home. Their conversation had seemed to be going well. 

_it's too soon, Jimmy_

James sighs and immediately goes out to buy one of those multi-room music systems so he can put an audiobook on or something to make the house feel less empty. 

But the truth is it doesn't really help. James tried to be good and he knows Jess isn't ready. He doesn't want to rush her either; it wouldn't do any good and he wants them to be solid once they get back together. But he can't help the emptiness that is slowly eating him alive. 

James knows that he should just deal with it, or maybe invite someone on the team over to help ease some of his loneliness. But James knows that isn't what he wants or what he needs. He'd kept Instagram uninstalled, but that didn't keep him from going to the webpage. 

José’s lineup of photos always seems to be growing and he shows off different outfit he's trying out. He takes videos of him dancing by himself, and James feels hot under the collar and he knows that he shouldn't. But the same sort of thought is a dangerous one-- because he is getting less and less sure of _why_ he shouldn't do it. 

He pulls up his text messaging app and looks at Jess’s last message, telling him it’s too soon. And he looks at the number underneath hers-- and his mouth goes a little dry. He keeps telling himself that he shouldn't but he clicks on his name and gives him his address anyways. 

_you don't have to dress up or anything._

**okay, why you got something planned?**

James doesn't answer but he feels nervous waiting for José. When he gets there, a few hours later, he shows up in a Tigers shirt and cap and jeans and some kind of sparkling something on his face. James smiles fondly when he sees him.

"Just can't help yourself, can ya?" James asks, rubbing his fingers over the sparkle on his cheeks. 

"Nothing but the best for you." José grins when he says it and James's chest aches a little, he doesn't know if José is kidding or not, but even if he is, it's a lie to make James's cheeks feel hot and his pulse start racing. 

"So, this your house?" José looks around the place and James knows there are pictures of Jess and him around. James nods a little and takes a seat on the couch. 

"You can sit if ya want." James offers and José takes a seat next to him. 

"You don't gotta do nothin' and I can still pay, I just… just wanted to…" James trails off and his cheeks heat up and José considers him for several long moments, before he moves closer on the couch and settles a hand on James's knee. José squeezes lightly there. 

"I understand," José says. 

James looks over at José, watches the way his dark eyes seem to scan over his face, and James wonders if he should feel embarrassed or what. Then José leans in and kisses James, just a soft press of his lips. 

And then James is grabbing the back of José’s neck and sliding his tongue into his mouth. 

James doesn't know what's happening, but he likes it. It isn't long at all before José is sliding into James's lap and kissing him even deeper. This sensation is familiar, José in his lap, grinding down on him. Except there's no music this time and it's crossed some boundary from what they actually are to this. James would be frightened if he wasn't so exhilarated by it. José kisses him long and slow and deep and his fingers curl into James's hair. 

It doesn't take long at all, for the slow and soft kiss to turn into something urgent and messy, completely losing propriety. José’s cock is pressing into James's stomach and his knees are digging in to James's thighs. 

"I'm gonna make you feel so good." José smooths James's hair out and slides between James's legs. He gets on his knees between James's legs. José’s fingers go to his belt buckle and loosen it, then the zipper on the front, and James knows that he should be telling him to stop but he can't bring himself to do it. His heart is somewhere in his throat.

"You don't-- you don't have to--" James tries, his hand feathering into José curly hair. José flashes him a sharp-toothed smile, dark eyes glittering. 

"I know. I want to." José slides his hands over the insides of James's thighs. There's no doubt in James's mind what's going to happen now. And it happens fast. He's not resisting, and José is perfectly efficient. He tugs James out of his boxers. James is already hard, embarrassingly so, and his cheeks feel really hot. 

José doesn't give him any chance to adjust to the new situation, which is honestly okay, because then José’s soft mouth is around the head of his cock. His tongue is soft and hot and James drops his head back against the back of the couch and clutches at José’s hair. 

"God." James feels the word torn from him like there's nothing he can do about it, he can only respond, he can only react. It makes his heart feel like it's going to pound through his ribcage. His eyes squeeze shut and he shifts his hips up a little. 

There's a certain way James gives in and it feels so good. It feels better than anything he could remember in a long fucking time. José is talented, his mouth shaped perfectly. His tongue rubs against the vein on the underside of James’s cock and over his slit. His fingernails dig into James's thighs. José is good. 

José is beautiful with glitter on his face and his mouth wrapped around James's cock. 

It reminds James of the beginning of the end, the first fantasy that he had had. After the party, he thought about José’s glitter flecked body and how he'd taste after swallowing James's come. James wants that. He wants to kiss him. He wants José to swallow him. 

He wants and _wants_. 

James starts thrusting a little and José just looks up at him through the fringe of dark lashes, redness staining over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and it seems to be crawling down his neck and disappearing into the shirt he's wearing. 

James wants to follow it with his mouth, but he feels paralyzed under José’s mouth and the gentle pressure of his hands on his thighs. James already feels overly hot and it's good, it's curling low in his stomach, and he can hear José swallowing noisily around him. 

James can look down and see the slickness on José’s chin. 

James feels like he's going to die on the spot and José bobs his head, sliding his head over the slit, and wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, stroking him in time with the gentle slide of his lips. 

"God, god José-- it's too much, it's-- fuck." James squeezes his eyes shut tightly and he can't watch anymore. But he can't keep his eyes closed. He can't help but watch. 

"I'm close." James sighs out to José, who doesn't change his movements at all, he just keeps going slowly, using his tongue. When José scrapes his teeth lightly over the sensitive underside of James's cock, James can't keep back the wail he lets out. 

His hips jerk forward erratically as he's coming. It's not out of the blue, and José keeps his mouth around him, swallowing around him, pulling back during the little aftershocks, so James smears some on José’s lips and chin. 

James is breathing heavily, his heart racing uncomfortably, and José wipes his mouth and stands up before rejoining him on the couch. José’s arms wind around James's waist and he pillows himself against his side. 

"S'better?" José’s voice is slurred and a little mumbled, James nods in response, not trusting his voice. 

They sit there like that for what seems like an impossibly long time. 

"You should stay the night." James looks over at José hopefully. José smiles and chucks him lightly on the chin with his fist. 

"You so cute." 

The house feels emptier than before once he's alone again. 

***

He wakes up to a text from Ashley Boyd, a series of party balls spraying confetti. 

**you excited for the PAR-TAY?!**

James swears under his breath, he'd forgotten all about the charity drive he'd agreed to still participate in when Jess had dipped out. 

_wouldn't miss it for the world girl_ James sends back and then adds a smiley face so it doesn't look as sarcastic as it sounds. Ashley sends back an emoji he _thinks_ is a hug. 

He gets another text from Matt a short time later. 

**if u don't have anyone to match 2 we r going to b in green. just a thought. thanks 4 doing this man.**

James rolls his eyes and he thinks about what he has. Jess had taken the dress, the semi-formal lavender dress and he has a charcoal suit with a matching colored vest and tie and pocket square. 

_i'll be fine not matching anyone. thanks though._

James will be fine without a date. It isn’t any big thing anyways. _The Rainbow Connection_ is hosting a party and charity auction to raise money, a fancy thing, and Ashley had set up James and Matt to donate some signed equipment for it and are the guests of honor. 

James goes about his day normally, and he's pretty content to go alone but he takes a picture of the tie and vest and attaches it to a text. 

_you have anything understated --not a dress-- that matches this? kinda looking for a plus one for an event_

There's a string of laughing faces after a moment. 

**you asking for a date?**

James's cheeks burn hotly. 

_not really a date just a… i don't know. just don't wanna go alone. my friend and his wife are going too and i don't want to be a third wheel_

There is a few moments between replies and José eventually replies. 

**yeah i got something. i meet you at your place.**

James gives approval and somewhat wants to ask José what he even has. He doesn't want to give the impression he doesn't trust him, but he doesn't know why he doesn't want to do that. 

José shows up about an hour later. He looks -- completely different. His hair is neatly styled and he is devoid of glitter or make up. Not that James minds those things, he just looks different without them. He's in a black suit, and his vest is a deep and rich gold with cream colored paisley decorating it. 

His shirt is black and the tie matches the vest and James's throat goes completely dry. He doesn't know what he was expecting, something more flamboyant, maybe. But José looks positively -- god. James doesn't have words. 

"You okay?" José is teasing him and James can tell. But James can't help but feel completely floored. And his heart is racing, his palms sweating a little. 

He wishes he could wipe his hands off on his thighs but the suit is too nice. 

"You look-- you look nice." James feels a little distant, like he's having an out of body experience. José is so beautiful. James almost feels like he did when -- 

He wants to shy away from the thought, but he can't. He doesn't shy away from the thought-- but seeing José like this, it almost feels like when he'd seen Jess walking down the aisle. 

The intensity of the thought embarrasses him. 

"You too, _guapo_." José grins at him and smooths his hand over James's tie to get rid of the wrinkles. James wants to hold José's hand, but he doesn't. 

The hired car pulls up and James walks José out the door. Matt and Ashley look beautiful and James introduces José as his friend and Ashley seems charmed by him. 

James can't stop looking at José. He feels smitten all over again. James and Matt talk baseball, about the string of games that they have coming up. 

Ashley is taken by José and they talk about his life. José says he is an entertainer, without going into too much detail; James is grateful, though. 

The night on a whole is a success, José is charming to a fault, and the auction is a success. José is good at talking James up; he's obviously done some kind of research. And it's almost like Jess is there, drumming up interest in James's items. Except José has a sneaky way of getting people to agree with him. 

A lot of people bid on James's items, pushing the price far beyond what he expected. James is sure that he sees some people slip José their numbers. 

They finally have a moment, when Ashley and Matt are off dancing, James sits with José and drinks champagne. 

"Having a good time?" José asks James which startles him. He looks over at José, who has his cheek propped into his hand, and is looking at James with a warm look. 

James feels his heart race painfully and he smiles back at José. 

"Yes… You?" James reaches his hand across the table and squeezes José's hand. José smiles at him even wider. And it feels like there's something there. Something right below the surface. 

"Is nice to get out and have fun sometimes. Is always a good time with you." José almost looks shy when he says it and James bites his lower lip. 

There's so much James wants to say but he can't in the middle of the party.

José declines James's offer to come home with him and James lays awake for a long time trying to figure out what’s going on with his mind. 

***

James is just about ready to go to the park for practice, when the front door opens. He was sure he hadn't left it unlocked but there is no way to tell now. He grabs his practice bat that's with his things. 

James rounds the corner, holding the bat loosely in his hand, and comes face to face with Jess. 

"Jess!" He's not sure if he's surprised or angry. But he drops the bat and gathers her in his arms, squeezing her tightly in his arms. She laughs good naturedly and presses a kiss to his cheek, leaving a lipstick imprint. 

"Hey sugar." Her drawl is more pronounced after her time down in Kentucky. James is just glad she's home. He can finally put the dismal few months behind him and go back to focusing on their relationship.

She freshens up from the plane ride and while she's off in the bathroom, James digs his wedding ring out of the bedside drawer. He looks down at his fingers, and there's no more pale spot where his ring used to sit. 

He frowns a little, but slips it back on with a determined face. 

Everything is going to be better now that she's home. He can just feel it. 

James is something of an optimist in this regard, he knows that. But there wasn't a way for them to actually fix anything when she was that far away. Now that she's back, he just knows things are going to be so much better. He'd bet his paycheck on it, honestly. 

Jess comes to the park with him and Kelsey is delighted. She squeals like a person seeing a long lost friend, and they hug and talk way too fast in half-sentences, words that James doesn't really understand, and in-jokes that he just doesn't pick up on. 

But that's all well and good. James had always been appreciative of having young guys like him-- in Michael and Matt-- whose wives were of the same age and stock as Jess. (Not that there was anything wrong with the older women, or Kate who was a different _type_ of woman; James just thinks it's nice that Ashley and Kelsey and Jess had gotten to be such good friends.)

Ashley, however, gives James a _look_ when he shows up with Jess and looks like she's about to say something, before she gets swept up in the conversation. 

James leaves Jess with the other wives to go and get ready for practice. His wedding ring feels odd now, like a weight on his ring finger that doesn't settle comfortably anymore. He's hyper aware of it, and he twists it idly as he stands in front of his locker. 

His wedding band is gold and it reminds him of José. He hates that it does. He slips it off and slides it onto the silver chain around his neck, and thinks, maybe it'll settle easier over his chest, closer to his heart. That's where he has to keep this, after all. 

James thinks of his wedding vows, of how beautiful Jess looked at their wedding. And when he closes his eyes he can see the gorgeous ornate gown she'd wore and the diamonds sparkling in her ears, and a smile to match. 

He feels the image waver and he forces his mind elsewhere, before he figures out what breaks the vision. 

He settles down with his scouting reports instead.

At the end of the day, they win by a hair, and it's thanks to the way that Matt settled in on the mound, tightening everything up, and delivering just when he needed to, like a clutch player. They both speak highly of one another in their post-game interviews. 

James always laughs when Matt looks seriously into the camera and says that James had called a great game. James is sure he could watch hours of Matt's post-game interviews and not find a single one where Matt doesn't say that. 

When the reporters move on to interview Ian, the hero of the day with his game-winning double, Matt stands beside James's locker and pokes around at the different bobbleheads and books James has up there. 

James smiles at him. 

"Can I help you?" 

It's mostly teasing. 

"Can we talk?" Matt's gaze darts around. "Like, alone, later." 

James frowns. 

"Sure, you wanna drop our wives off and get drinks?" 

"Yeah, sounds good man." Matt pats him on the shoulder and wanders away. James wonders what they'd have to talk about that couldn't be talked about in the middle of the clubhouse. James is ready to go in no time and he gathers up Jess to take her home. 

"I won't be gone long, Matt has some personal problem he wants to talk about." James rolls his eyes but it's good natured. "Why don't you order something in and we can cuddle up and watch bad tv and eat like old times?" 

James gives Jess, what he hopes is, a disarming smile. She grins back at him so it must work. He heads out the door to go and meet Matt. 

*** 

The bar that James meets Matt at is some dingy, hole in the wall. It's close to the ballpark, but Matt must have scoped it out beforehand, because no one seems to recognize James off the bat. He orders a beer on tap and eats peanuts that are set out on the table, drumming his fingers against the frosted glass. 

Matt and-- surprisingly-- Ashley join him not too long after. Matt gets some kind of mixed drink and Ashley rolls her eyes at him affectionately and gets a beer. They sit in the booth across from him and James smiles. 

"So, Jess being back must be really good!" Matt grins and James sees Ashley unsubtly elbow him, digging him a little as he yelps. "What?" 

He makes a little pained whimper. 

"Oh yeah, for sure." James pokes at his wedding ring idly. "I'm glad she’s finally home again, it's been nice." 

Ashley sips on her drink and then props her chin in her hand and watches James intently. James frowns and wonders what she's looking at. Sometimes he doesn't like Ashley, because she looks at him and he feels that she knows too much. He knows at least that Jess talks to her sometimes. That means she definitely knows things that she shouldn't about James.

"You didn't seem that happy with her." Ashley doesn't sound like she's starting a fight. She looks genuinely concerned. Of course, James quickly stammers and Ashley holds a hand up to cut James off. He frowns more at her. "I'm not judging, I'm just mentioning." 

"What do you mean, he's more lively than he's been in ages." Matt gives Ashley an incredulous look. She frowns at him, but she falls silent after that. 

Matt fills the silence with some idle chatter, but James is still watching Ashley, wondering what she knows. There's a long line at the bar and she sends Matt to get some food. 

Once they're alone, Ashley reaches over the table, and squeezes James's hand. James frowns at her as she does but he can already feel his resolve crumbling in the face of her knowing look. James sighs a little. 

"It's okay," Ashley assures him. "I'm not judging you. I know you and Jess have been having problems. There's no shame in that. There's nothing wrong, there's nothing bad, about realizing you want something else. You don't gotta live your whole life with someone if it's not working out, James." 

Matt comes back and the conversation moves on, but Ashley's words ring in his head. 

***

Life moves on. 

Eventually, just like when he'd first got married, James's wedding ring feels almost normal. Jess being back is good. It's good, James can go back to being who he knows he is and he can put the last few months back tightly, like they happened in some kind of dream. 

A surreal dreamspace that existed between the cracks in his marriage. But Jess is back and that means they can fix it-- that means they’re _trying_ to fix it. James is a good husband-- he _can be_ a good husband. 

Jess is his wife and he loves her. 

He doesn't know how many times he has to tell himself in his head it's good she's back before he convinces himself of it. 

The hard part is making himself delete everything. He feigns a broken phone and resets it back to the factory defaults. Logs into his Instagram one last and final time to send José a message. That he needs to see. 

_thanks for everything but it can't happen again._

James deletes it right then, deactivates his account, so he'll never have to see what José says about it, or feel the desire to go back to it. (He knows it's going to have to be like a drug, quitting cold turkey, and leaving him some free of temptation.) 

Jess goes back to joining him on the road and he'd be lying if he said his mind was one-hundred percent on fixing their relationship. He doesn't know what's changed for her, but if she was ready to work it out, so was he. 

James spends the time burying José further and further-- diminishing-- a _distraction_ , a fleeting mistake. 

Jess fits in better. He can bring her to the park with him. Not that James would have-- he cuts the thought off as quickly as it comes. 

James thinks he's doing better. 

"Yo, Jimmy!" Matt hollers at him across the locker room. Even though he's coming over to him, Ashley on his heels, looking bright and sunny. Jess leans into James's side and waves at Ashley. James looks at the photos that Matt is clutching. 

"We got the pics from the charity auction!" Ashley says, "We thought you'd want your own set."

Ashley turns to Jess and they start chatting away about the gala and what they might do next, now that Jess is done caring for her family. James suspects Ashley knows more than she pretends to, though. James tunes them out, flipping through the pictures. 

"Aw, hon, you look so handsome." Jess coos as she leans in and looks with him. There are a lot of pictures of people mixed in, so it's not -- it's not _weird_ but he feels his entire heart clench when he comes across a picture of José. 

He's probably imagining the look Ashley is giving him. 

Jess and Ashley head to the wives' section and Matt goes to bother Daniel Norris; no one sees James slip the photo into the front pocket of his gym bag. 

***

James tries to deny it, but it becomes more and more clear, after a while, that he and Jess aren't working any longer. Their friction from before their break has died down, but he still feels it bubbling under the surface of the things they're saying. 

James can feel it getting bad again and he knows some of it is his fault. His heart isn't in it anymore. He's just -- James has lapsed. 

Since seeing that picture of José from the gala, he's started going back to looking at his Instagram. 

James notices he isn't posting anymore and, eventually, the account becomes locked. 

James doesn't get approved to friend it after. And thinks he may be blocked. 

Things come to a head when James has to stop pretending. James finds himself combing through old cell phone statements to find José's number and he knows -- he knows that Jess, the marriage, everything -- 

It's not what he wants anymore. It's not what he needs anymore. 

***

James doesn't really want to do this; part of him -- a cowardly part -- wishes that Jess had decided to end it and he'd be free of having to come clean about everything. But then universe isn't that kind and in his heart, James knows that Jess deserves better than that. 

He waits until they have some time off -- just a day in between leaving for a road trip, and he paces nervously as Jess is out during the day and thinks of the best way to -- to explain everything. 

But he doesn't know which words he can form to make everything okay. It's not going to be okay. He's screwed up everything. He screwed up with Jess and he screwed up with José and he was doing it again. 

Jess gets home and James thinks about dressing it up, but he just sets her down on the couch and tells her. He tells her everything. 

James feels weird saying the words out loud -- 

But he holds her hand and tells her -- about the party ("I didn't mean for anything to happen"), about José ("I don't know what it was about him"), about the way his body and mind and soul had strayed from her ("I'm so sorry, Jess…") 

James spares Jess the details and just says that they had met and he'd -- made a mistake. Except it wasn't a mistake, but he doesn't backtrack it, for Jess's sake. 

James isn't surprised that she's mad. 

Jess has every right to be mad. And no amount of apologizing will be enough. 

She leaves that night. 

James takes his wedding ring off and stashes it in the bedside table again. 

***

James waits a few days to get things settled down at home, then a few more because he has to go to Texas for a few series of games. It's not a great stretch of games and James himself isn't having a great stretch. 

_i'm sorry. i don't deserve your forgiveness but i was wrong. about me and what i wanted. i want to take you out. please._

José doesn't reply and after the game, James closes his eyes for a moment. James knows he doesn't deserve it but he -- he wants still. 

_i am gonna be at the stone house until like 9. if you wanna talk -- well._

James showers and changes and packs up, declines an invitation to go out with Nick and J.D. and some others. James knows that he will be sitting there, alone, and the prospect isn't that great but he has to try. 

James orders a thing of wine and gets complimentary bread and then he waits. James sets his phone on the table and scrolls through game scores, bouncing his foot in anxiousness. 

It's quarter to nine when the door opens. José looks as flamboyant as usual, with a fire engine red pair of tight pants and his shirt is almost unbuttoned halfway down his chest. 

"Are those leggings?" James says and he really didn't want that to be the first thing he says. But José's dour expression wipes away into a hearty laugh as he settles down in the seat next to James. 

"I think you maybe not want me to wear the skirt." 

It almost feels normal. It feels good. 

James looks down at the table. 

"I wouldn't have minded," James mumbles. 

José rubs at his shoulder lightly and James looks over at him and smiles. José's hand slides away and they lapse into quiet. 

"I should explain what happened." 

"You don't owe me nothing. You were just a client." José's tone is carefully guarded. James looks at the table and rubs the back of his neck and he feels like an idiot, but he forges on. 

"I felt like, near the end, we were getting closer and I -- it scared me because I…" James peels at the paper label on his beer bottle. "I felt like I was falling for you. And I was still married and I thought when Jess came back, it'd be alright. But I didn't --"

José is studying him with dark, half lidded eyes. 

"I didn't stop feeling for you. I just kept… I kept thinking about you. I noticed you stopped posting. I…" James trails off. José is still looking at him and he reaches out to pat James on the hand. 

"I didn't mean to like… I'm sorry." James says. José links their fingers together and he sighs softly. They meet eyes and José shakes his head a little. 

"You did not do anything wrong." José says. "I understand." 

"But I wasn't happy. I wasn't happy with that anymore because I want -- I want you." 

James looks down at his hands as José sighs again. 

"So, you wanted me to come to tell me that?" José asks and James shakes his head. 

"No, I wanted you here so I could -- I could formally ask you out. I want you to go out with me. No expectations. No -- anything else -- just me and you." 

José is quiet for a few moments and James is quiet too, but they keep their fingers laced together. 

"So you gonna buy me a drink then?" José asks and James laughs and scoots a little closer to José. 

James puts his arm around him and lets out a breath he doesn't even realize he was holding. 

For the first time in months, James starts looking towards his future.


End file.
